Violation
by thylovelyengel
Summary: based on Tokio Hotel when Bill gets ready for a spanish interview, he is confronted by Bushido, disaster occurs warning twincest and adult content dont like don't watch
1. Violation

**Disclaimer:** I do not own tokio hotel, this is completely fake and i do not mean anything by it. Though based on real people this story is completely untrue, apparently people don't seem to realized the FICTION in FanFiction

Violation

It was nearly an hour before show time in the beautiful country of Spain. In his dressing room, the young lead singer Bill Kaulitz was doing some final touch ups on his famous eye makeup and spraying together his notorious foot high hair style. He was there for a Spanish interview, his first one by himself. Tom and the rest of the guys were still in Germany getting some things put together and would be arriving the next afternoon to meet up with Bill for a small concert in Madrid. Small was really an understatement for the band since most of the Tokio Hotel shows sold out within an hour after being available. For the guys, it was just another day at work.

For the most part, Bill was very calm and tranquil as he was getting ready. His feisty and hyperactive personality would easily turn into nerves at this point during a pre-interview and would almost cause him to break down before anything even happened. Then it would be up to Tom to calm his brother down and bring him back down to Earth. But he wasn't here. Not right now at least. So it had taken all the strength in Bill's body to remain under control during his brother's absence. Luckily, he had Tobi the security manager to aid him and keep all the crazy fan girls away.

Once the last of the hairspray was used up, he was finally all finished with himself. Looking the wall clock, he went over to the dressing room door and locked it so no one else would come in. With his back against the wall, he reached into his back pocket to retrieve a small photo. It was a picture of Tom that he always carried around whenever he was alone somewhere, so he always knew that his angel was with him at all times. It was one of his favorites too. In the picture, Tom posed like he was a marble statue of a Greek God with his bare chest and six pack perfectly sculpted. His dreads free from any hat or ponytail, loose and around his face. His soft smirk and penetrating eyes always made Bill swoon with pleasure. Especially when the light was directed just right to hit his lip ring; it gave off an almost magical, hypnotic shine that absolutely made anyone melt through the floor. Beautiful: the one word that can be described of Tom. And Bill had him all to himself.

The clock read 25 minutes till the show started. In his mind, he calculated how much time he really had. Once it started, there was a two minute break and then Tobi just informed him that a surprise guest goes on before him. So in reality, Bill had at least another forty minutes to himself. He glanced back down at Tom's picture. On the back it read: Don't miss me too much, I love you, Tom. But deep down, Bill just couldn't handle the solitude any longer.

Forty minutes alone? he thought, fuck it, I don't care.

In one swift move, he moved from the wall to sitting on the overstuffed, velvety sofa, digging into his pants to salvage his dick. Thrusting his head back, his hand was put in motion. Velvet turned into extreme nothingness like a floating sensation as he pictured his twin on top and inside of him. Going about with such fire and power and somewhat rapid just as Bill liked it. He was moaning softly so no one could hear him express his satisfaction. Then he flexed his neck back to normal position to find white globs excreted from his penis on his hand, the floor and unfortunately the picture.

"Oh I know you love it," he whispered sensually to the photo, "let's do it again Tomi."

But before he could continue to please himself again, there was a loud knock at the door. Flustered and in a panic, Bill cleaned up after himself and had to figure a way to "calm himself down." The knocking grew more furious as time ticked away.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Shit!" shouted Bill. After he was settled, he went to go see the stranger at the door. To his surprise, Bushido, the famed German rapper stood in front of him. Apparently he was the surprise guest before him. Oh how "overjoyed" Bill was to see him.

"Hello Bill," he bellowed in his deep voice, "is this a bad time? I can come back later."

"No of course not, please come in," replied Bill, as he moved out of the way for Bushido's gorilla like body to get through. Bill had always been a courteous person, never being able to say no or be rude to anyone, even to someone like Bushido. Something that Tom found irresistible about him.

Bushido slithered around the room, as if inspecting it, touching chairs, suitcases, empty hairspray bottles and other personal belongings. It was one of Bill's many pet peeves when people touch his stuff and at this point, he was slightly annoyed and wished Bushido was gone. Behind the irritated feeling was a surge of curiosity. Why would Bushido come visit him? He knew that Bushido was extremely jealous and spiteful of him just because Tokio Hotel was slightly more popular than he was in the international field of music. Not to mention his vindictive behavior and short-fused attitude wasn't something to be played around with.

"So how are you Bill?" he asked while continuing to rummage through stuff, "how's the band, the shows, traveling, you know; the works."

"Oh, it's all good," Bill hesitantly responded, "the tour is amazing, fans are nuts especially in America and we're now putting out a new album. But you'll hear that in the interview." He noticed how Bushido cringed at the sound of a new album and going to America. It was a good thing he kept his distance.

"Very nice," he said in a raspy voice. He stood in front of the large vanity mirror as he fondled with a small piece of paper from the counter. Bill froze as he vigorously dug into his back pocket. His picture was missing and he knew that Bushido had it in his hand.

Granted, people do know about their relationship as "intimate siblings" and none of their close friends or family members have discouraged it. They actually supported the twins in any way, shape and form. But though there were still some individuals that found them repulsive and wanted them dead. There was even a threat to them while in their studio apartment in Berlin in which someone wrote the word Pigs on the front door in blood. Tom overcame that incident but for Bill, he was scarred and self-conscious about his relationship and had a hard time recovering. Tom stayed with his brother to help him through this hard time and because he cares for him. But it was decided that they didn't make it so known particularly in America. They didn't want to give a bad taste to brand new fans overseas who wouldn't understand them at all. To this very day, Bill still felt touchy on the subject of his "association" with his brother when someone brought it up unexpectedly.

"He's a dream, isn't he?" asked Bushido.

"Excuse me?" Bill said as if he didn't know, "what do you mean?"

With a gesture of his hand, Bushido replied "please come here." Bill practically tiptoed to him, he was so nervous. Once close enough to him, he glanced down at Tom's picture in the ultimately wrong hands. His huge thumb was covering Tom's perfect face as he gazed at Bill.

"Tom is one handsome man, isn't he Bill?" he asked again.

"Yes indeed," he replied in a low voice.

"Do you love him?"

He was shocked at this question since no one has ever asked him, not even Tom. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he knew how to answer him.

"Umm…why yes…with everything I have to live for," he stammered.

"You hesitated to answer," Bushido snapped, "why?"

"Bushido, I don't feel comfortable having this conversation with you. Can you please leave now?'

"It's only a question. And it is about something that you love right? So what's the problem?"

"This is just a personal subject that's all. And I don't think it's any of your business to know about my love life thank you very much."

"Face it Bill," he hissed with the glare of a deranged, rabid animal right through Bill's fearful eyes, "you don't truly love your own twin. Not in that way."

"No I…" was all the Bill could get out before he felt Bushido's lips connect with his. All the knowledge in the world wouldn't be able to explain why Bushido was acting in this way. Bill tried to fight him off but it was futile. He was ten times stronger than he was. Once he was released, Bill leaped back as far as he could away from the monster.

"Bushido! Why?" he gasped.

"Oh so you don't know," he sneered lurking in Bill's direction, "you don't know that I'm outrageously attracted to you. You don't know how badly I want Tom dead so I can have you." He grabbed Bill's arm and clenched it to the point of cut-off circulation so there was no escape. Right into Bill's ear, he fiercely yet gently whispered "and you don't know that I'm going to fuck you right now, whether you want to or not."

Before Bill had any chance to scream for help, he was punched straight in the Adam's apple, leaving him gasping for air and unable to speak. His shirt was ripped off in an instant and he was thrown on the very same sofa he was on before. Yet this time he felt like he was being scrapped against broken glass and sandpaper rather than floating on a cloud. All the pain wielding inside of him started to break through as tears formed from his glassy eyes. Bushido stood over him, naked and waiting to pounce on his helpless prey. There was no way out from underneath Bushido's abnormally huge body. Bill was pinned down, fighting and crying. He eventually surrendered when he heard Bushido chuckling out of all the commotion.

"Bill calm down baby," he swooned as he moved Bill's hair from his face. Bill's hand bitterly slapped his face leaving only a small red mark, but that didn't seem to be very effective. Instead, it only made Bushido laugh harder.

"Believe me; this will be enjoyable…for me at least."

And so it began. Bushido kissed him once more and maneuvered himself downward. His tongue wrapping around Bill's dick like a lollipop while playfully nipping at it as well. It was like a leech attaching itself to his penis and not willing to let go. His head moving up and down was the only thing visible to the feeble Bill. It was so wrong and so evil in a way that made him crave Tom's existence at that moment.

With his legs kicking and body squirming for freedom, Bill tried once more for a getaway from Bushido's venomous bite. And with every suck growing harder and harder against him, he tried just as hard to break free. His poor attempts only resulted in Bushido biting his dick very hard.

After his mouth was settled, he sat up, gave a stern look at Bill and viciously snarled revealing blood stained teeth. Bill was horrified, not for the fact that his dick was bleeding, but the fact that there was a blade hiding behind Bushido's back

"You're making this very difficult," he sighed, "I don't want to do this but since you won't behave…" the blade was out and in front of him, "I have no choice." The blade came soaring down toward Bill's leg as his eyes widened with fear. And then the shooting pain, originating from his right knee, traveled all throughout his body. Still being unable to speak, his agonizing shriek was unheard by anyone. Looking at his lower half stood the beast that stabbed him with his hand covered in blood coming from his leg. Suddenly, he felt and smelled duct tape being applied right underneath his nose and wrapping around his mouth.

"This is just so you don't go talking once your throat heals," said Bushido maniacally, "we wouldn't want anyone to be walking in on us would we?"

Bill's eyes were now in a fury for what Bushido was doing to him. He went to go slap him for a second time but it was caught. His hand was crushed like a broken car underneath Bushido's monster truck paw. With that same arm, he flipped Bill over on his stomach, shattering the wooden coffee table in front of the sofa. Bill whimpered in defeat as he was being penetrated by Bushido. The savage grunted under his breath as his speed increased as well as his fulfillment. It seemed like he was finally through with his dastardly deed. Panting and sobbing, Bill picked his head up from the floor. Right below him to his slight ease was Tom's picture. Now he really began to weep.

Tom, help me! he said aloud in his mind. And then it turned into a mere murmur through the tape; it amplified to Bill shouting for his twin for whoever was around to hear. Annoyed and fed up, Bushido took the nearest object to him (which was a hair straightener) and beat Bill over the head. Even as he did this, he still heard "Tom, help me!" coming from Bill's muffled mouth. Alas, it grew silent as a final hit knocked Bill out cold while Bushido roared in victory.

Bill was bleeding. He was bleeding a lot and he knew it, from the stab wound in his knee, his head, the splinters in his sides, right down to his bitten penis. He knew that he was most likely going to die. He would be in his dressing room; miles away from home and everyone he loves…love. He finally admitted (to himself) that he was in love, with his own brother. And Tom wouldn't be here to know it. The only thing he could do with his revelation was to take it to his grave, beaten. And it was all Bushido's fault. It was him who had done this to him. It was his fault that he was about to die. If Bill was going to die, he would be taking Bushido down with him, somehow.

Just then, he heard a door slam open and someone shouting "say goodnight you bastard," which brought upon three loud shots from what Bill perceived as a gun. Bill was too numb to even gather the strength to look around to see who it was.

"Oh my god! No, Bill!" said the voice which was the last this Bill heard. But the last thing he saw was a familiar shine and then darkness flooded his vision

Antiseptic: that was the first thing that woke Bill up from his slumber; a strong scent of antiseptics was all that he distinguished. Then, he heard the heart monitor to the right of him beep away at a normal pace. He was relieved that he was still alive. Next were the itchy bed sheets against his tattered skin and eventually leading up to Bill opening his eyes to find himself in the hospital. It was bright from the morning sunlight filling the room. The fact that the room was a light color also added to the brightness affect which made Bill's eyes ache and nearly made him close his eyes again. But all that changed when he saw Tom sitting to the left of him, reading a magazine and listening to his ipod. He could hear the monitor rise slightly as he caught eye of his angel.

"Tom!" he forced out. As soft as it was, Tom turned around to his injured twin and his face lit up like a starry summer night.

"Oh Bill! I thought I lost you forever," Tom exhaled and got up to hug his brother. They held each other close for a long time, regaining the feeling of one another that was dishonored by an unwanted intruder. Tears were felt on Bill's shoulder for Tom was crying out of happiness. He didn't judge since Bill was doing the very same thing.

"Tom, I was raped by Bushido."

"I know, he won't bother us anymore," said Tom collectedly.

"Why? How?" Bill asked puzzled.

"Because he's dead, I shot him when I came into your dressing room. I found you passed out and cut up pretty badly. How are you feeling?"

"Alright, but I think I would feel even better if you come lay next to me," said Bill innocently. Tom smiled his beloved smirk and got on the bed next to Bill.

"So why did you come so early anyway?"

"I wanted to surprise you and also couldn't stand not being near you any longer," Tom replied sheepishly that made Bill giggle. He put his head on his angel's shoulder as Tom started to stroke his soft onyx hair. His other hand moved to be placed on Bill's hip but he felt him wince in pain.

"How much does it hurt?" Tom asked.

"Not that much now that I'm with you," he squeaked back, "thank you Tom for showing up. I thought I would have been dead if you didn't. Please don't leave me ever again." And he dug his face into Tom's neck and shoulder while wrapping his free arm around his chest sobbing.

"I promise babes," whispered Tom, "I love you and I will always be there for you."

Bill sighed as a flashback of him half dead came to mind and how Tom truly meant what he said. And now he had the opportunity to say what he needed to say.

"I love you too Tom," was all he said to his brother, his twin, his angel and one true love. Laying together and finally at peace.


	2. Premonition

Premonition

Four days, nine hours and ten minutes: that was how long Bill stayed in the hospital after the attack. That was how long it took for his wounds to heal, but what he didn't know was that the other wounds could take years to heal, possible left to remain for eternity.

It was a beautiful Sunday morning when Bill was discharged from the hospital. He was grateful that he could put his tight black pants and jewelry back on rather than the humiliating paper gown he was forced to wear. He was way too glamorous for that, but on top of all that, Bill was happy to finally go home. Tom and the guys were picking him up that afternoon for a red eye flight back to Germany. Bill felt bad for everyone, especially the Spanish fans for his departure, but they were all very understanding. In fact, they rejoiced for Bill's health and Bushido's death. He thought that was a little extreme, a man lost his life and people were cheering about it. Bill actually wanted to show up at Bushido's funeral to pay his respects, to forgive him, but Tom cleverly scheduled a physical therapy appointment on that day. He could sense the everlasting grudge Tom held against Bushido; it made him very controlling.

Around noon, Valencia, his nurse who was around her early forties, short, stout and proud to be Spanish, came into his room with a wheelchair to escort him out. Valencia was like his second mother to Bill for the time he spent in the hospital as she would monitor his pain meds, help him apply his make up since his dominant hand was broken and more importantly, be a listening ear for him. The minute Tom left him to go back to the hotel on that first day, Bill went into a state of paranoia and fear. No one was able to get through to him and they didn't want to bother Tom again. But Valencia was the one to break past his shell and bring him back to a stable condition. Her tactic: patience, kindness and a shit load of morphine that could have knocked out an elephant; very effective.

But in all seriousness, she was the only nurse Bill felt comfortable around to talk about his personal issues and his trauma. He was upset that he had to leave her the instant he really started to connect with her. Bill cherished the time he had left with Valencia as she wheeled him down the bright white hallway. He had his head down most of the way with the occasional look up at the woman behind him; Bill didn't feel like associating with too many people that day. Through his black curtain of hair covering his face, Bill was on the brink of tears again, for no apparent reason. Valencia took note of that.

"Chico!" she said a loud in an accent, "what is with these water works? You tough boy, tough boys don't cry, they roar like lion!" Bill smiled at her analogy; that was his nickname around his nurses, "tough boy" since he was young and survived a horrible act. He liked it, made him feel honored in a way.

"There's that cute smile you've told me about!" she exclaimed, "Promise me you show that smile back home in Germany." Due to her thick accent, she couldn't properly pronounce the "G" in Germany, but Bill didn't mind.

"I promise," he whispered, "I want to thank you for all that you've done for me. I appreciate it."

"It was na-ting Chico!" All of the yelling Valencia was doing was giving Bill a headache. "Chico, may I ask, is there anything you want to tell Mama Valencia? You know, the nightmares, the bad day, the boom-boom with Tom-Tom…"

"Valencia please!" he squealed, "not too loud about that last one."

"Okay, I'm just asking Chico. I hear about him all time during discussion and when you make self boom-boom to him at night."

"Valencia!"

"What? You scream name out so loud, you wake the dead." Bill was laughing, which was something he really wanted and needed to do. He was really going to miss her and her free spirited attitude.

It seemed like days until they reached the back entrance where Tom was waiting beside his escalade. Valencia helped Bill out of the chair and into the car. Even though his leg was cleaned and sewn together, Bill still had a limp and need assistance on his feet. Tom had gotten him a cane that looked like he swapped from Ozzy Osborne for Bill to use.

Once secured in the car, it was time to say goodbye. Valencia ducked into the car to hold Bill one last time in her arms. It felt like yesterday when she would hold and cradle the damaged young man as he broke down for periods of time. It was hard to let go for the both of them.

As they parted, Bill rubbed his eye to hold back a tear.

"I said no crying tough boy," she choked; she was holding in tears herself. Bill smiled a crooked smile as he nodded his head assuring her that he got the message. Then she slammed the door shut, forming a cold barrier of glass and metal. Bill saw her mouth the words, "adios Chico," when they started to pull away. He mouthed back, "bye mama," and waved back with his shattered hand; forever she will be in his heart and mind, just like Tom.

* * *

A week later, the whole band was scheduled for an interview, a local one in Germany for Bill's sake. Bill remained abnormally quiet when they were getting ready, and there wasn't even an "ehh" or "uhm" or even a "ya" from him, something very rare for Bill. He just stood at the mirror, applying his make up in a trance like motion, and showing no emotion what-so-ever in his face.

Ever since they left the hospital, Bill would have these days where he became unstable and out of control, and others where he became invisible to people. This time, Tom was nervous about his condition since it was Bill's first interview after the attack. He just wanted his brother to be okay.

When he finished, Bill vanished out of the dressing room. Little did he know, Tom was close on his trail, following him into the closet he hid himself in.

"Billa baby, what's wrong?" Tom asked, holding his twin up in case he collapsed. Bill was shaking in his arms.

"I'm scared Tomi," Bill sobbed, "what if he hurts me again?"

"Bill, he's never going to come back. He's dead. I've told you that a million times."

"What if someone else tries to hurt me?"

"Then they'll have to get past me first. And if anyone lays so much as a fingernail on you, I'll rip their arms out of their sockets and eat them!"

"Delicious," groaned Bill sarcastically as he made a face like the time he ate a sour warhead back in New York. Tom snickered and held his distressed lover close to his chest with his soft midnight hair underneath his chin. It reeked of hairspray and gel, but he could have cared less, as long as Bill was alright. He nudged Bill's crown to signal him up; he saw the wild fear that was running throughout Bill's body by just looking into his dark, glassy eyes. He couldn't bear seeing Bill in so much torture, so he pulled him closer for a healing kiss. Bill's lips felt cold beneath Tom's, as if all of his passion and fire had been extinguished forever. Tom missed the old Bill; the one who was full of life, bouncing off the walls, not being able to shut up. He missed his brother and the person who he fell in a dangerous and scandalous love with.

Bill was the one to break the kiss, but when they both got a look at each other once again, he was smiling. A spark of happiness struck Bill, and that was all Tom needed at the moment as he smiled back.

He glanced down at his watch, "Oh shit!" Tom shouted softly, "we gotta get going. Almost time, are you ready?"

Bill paused for a moment to find an answer. With an eager and positive tone, he simply said, "Bring it on."

The interview was an utter success for Bill. He answered all of the questions in total halcyon and didn't even break out once on camera. It was like winning a gold medal for good behavior for him. Tom was so proud of his brother.

"Great job babes," he said in Bill's ear, kissing his cheek, "don't forget to take your pill, I'll be right back." And he took off in the opposite direction.

Bill walked into the men's bathroom not far down the hall. In his pocket, he pulled out a small vial of Vicodin. He had been warned to not take too many at a time since it was a very powerful drug. A single overdose could kill a person, and for the most part, Bill had been under careful observation when about to take his medication. But all the pain he had hid away from everyone, especially Tom, had started to take a toll on him, and he wanted it to go away.

He started at his reflection as he unscrewed the cap, dropping four tablets into his hand, double his normal dosage. In one flip, Bill put all of them in his mouth and bent over the sink to chase them down with water. Bill was in shock of what he just did, but there was no turning back. He agreed with himself to keep this incident as secretive as possible; he didn't want Tom to be ashamed of him.

When he got up from the sink, he looked back in the mirror to find the image of the late Bushido staring back at him. He gasped and flung around so fast, he nearly fell to the ground. There was no one there, no one was behind him, and when he looked in the mirror again, there was also nothing there.

"It's just my imagination," he said to himself flustered. Grasping the vial with a snake like grip, he quickly rushed out of the bathroom.

* * *

"C'mon Tomi, more!" Bill wailed, "now!" Tom was between his bare legs, exhausted from sucking so much.

"Bill, I need a break," he exhaled, "I've been sucking you so much, I feel your sperm moving around in between my teeth!"

"Fine!" Bill scowled with a bitter face. After about ten seconds he yelled out, "break's over!" Tom sighed and got down to work again.

His tired mouth consumed Bill's length, his tongue going downward in a spiral motion; vacuum sealing himself on Bill made him howl with delight as he grabbed Tom's dreads, slamming his face into his crotch. Like his lips before the interview, Bill felt cold under his breath. This was definitely not Bill; this was some sex addict crazy person who was a complete bother to him. As much as he loved Bill, he didn't love his new personality.

Tom was practically drowning in Bill because he wouldn't stop drilling his face into his penis. With a stab of his side, he flinched and let go of Tom's head, leaving the older twin gagging and gasping on the floor.

"I'm not finished or satisfied yet," Bill whined.

"Well I am!" Tom snapped back with a surge of anger, "and I'm definitely not satisfied either with what we're doing right now. What is with you? Normally I'd be enjoying these sex marathons, but let me tell you, this isn't enjoyable! There's no feeling between us Bill, it's like fucking a robot. Can't you talk about it, instead of taking it out through sex? Honestly Bill, I'm tired of this." He spat out the remaining semen left in his mouth and got up to get dressed in the bathroom.

Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed the vial, pouring another four tablets from his hand to his mouth, this time straight up. Bill became increasingly angry for some reason, like he was about to kill something, or someone. Tom loved him, why would he stop pleasing him and leave?

_I told you so,_ said a voice. Bill looked around the dark room to see where it was coming from.

_He doesn't love you like that, not his own twin brother. He never did; it was a lie._ He continued to search until he caught sight of the arm chair in the corner, holding the ghost of Bushido. Bill rubbed his heavy eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming, but when he looked again, he was gone.

The hairs on his neck stood up as the room grew drastically frigid. Bill was shivering and he didn't know if it was from the cold or the drugs or some other thing, but he did not like it.

Suddenly a growl sort of sound was heard creeping closer and closer to Bill's ear and he knew it was Bushido's ghost.

"What do you want?" he whimpered, "go away!"

_Sweet Bill,_ the ghost laughed, _don't tell me you've forgotten about me so fast? I know I haven't. Matter of fact, I miss you so much Bill. Come to me._

He turned around again and then the voice disappeared into the shadows. The only thing Bill saw was his reflection again in the full length mirror on the closet door. Pulsating in his ears was this satanic chant spoken in a whisper by an invisible crowd, saying "premonition, premonition." The mirror image then turned into Bushido's hideous face as Bill gravitated toward the reflecting wall, and the voices continued to amplify.

Bill stood face to face with "Bushido" as the words "premonition, premonition," was blasted throughout the room. They both said nothing and just stared at each other.

_Come to me,_ the ghost suddenly broke out, out stretching his unseen hand to Bill. It brushed against his face, making Bill very apprehensive and anxious. Also, his shivering increased to full on shaking and it didn't seem to stop. _Come to me,_ it said again. Now he was crying tears of fear and grabbed his ears to shut out the voices that were screaming in his head. _Come to me,_ it said for a final time. Bill's scream penetrated the vigorous sounds yet that seemed to be no good at all. He was trapped.

"Bill! Snap out of it!" called Tom to his twin who was seizing on the floor, "Call an ambulance now! I don't know what happened, just do it!" Bill was yelling and shouting like a maniac with his limbs flailing everywhere and possessed actions.

"Premonition! Premonition!" was all that Bill could say.

"Bill! Stop it! Come back to me!"

"Premonition! Premonition!"

"Bill! No! Please!"

PREMONITON

PREMONITION

_PREMONITON!_

To be continued…


	3. Observation

**Disclaimer: I do not own Tokio Hotel just the plot**

**WOW sucky sucky filler chapter but i had to put something down, i will continue on with it keep on reviewing ;)**

"Observation"

_I know you're in here. Show yourself! I'm not crazy, why do you make it seem so? Get me out of here. It hurts so bad._

Bill was in a painfully white holding room in a hospital, rocking back and forth with thoughts tearing his mind apart. They brought him there when he overdosed and called it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Little did they know that Bill's problem sunk deeper than his psychological health; how does seeing someone who isn't there qualify as only stress?

Tom and a doctor watched his deteriorating brother tremble on the bolted down bed. It took a lot of energy out of him to hold back his tears of assorted emotions: anger, sorrow, worry, distrust, most of all disappointment. Tom was bitter at Bill because as the paramedics took him away on the gurney, he found his Vicodin bottle on the ground, almost empty. He couldn't believe that Bill would want to harm himself in ways that were as crude and horrid as to overdose. So he used his energy to hold back tears for Bill not because he was sick, but because he was gone. _What now?_ He thought to himself, as the feeling of loneliness wrapped itself around his broad and withered shoulders.

Inside the room, Bill stopped rocking for he heard a sound that didn't quite fit in. Slowly, he rose from the bed and everyone in the overlook room held their breath. Bill stared straight into the two way mirror where Tom and the doctor were. He couldn't see Tom but Tom could see him, and it had to have been hard. Bill's eyes were vacant and distant, not the glittering browns that drew him in like a magnet to metal, the eyes he used to recall. It hurt so bad that Tom had to leave the overlook, the doctor following close behind.

His reflection stared back at Bill. He could see nothing happening, nothing making a sound, nothing at all. That was, of course, when Bushido bled out from behind the reflection. Bill dared not to move since he knew the vision would disappear quickly.

"Now look what you've done," Bill said to no one, "they put me here again because of you."

"You think it's me?" the ghost sneered, "you were the one who took the pills, not me." He paced the room, so to speak, like any other living person. He turned on the faucet, threw the sheets off the bed and flushed the toilet, all the while Bill felt and heard it all going on behind him. "It's like a hospital scented apartment. I say this because I have a feeling you're gonna be here for a while." Bushido smiled evilly, "and I'll be right her with you Billa."

Bill whipped around to try and hit him, but then again, how could you hit a ghost? Bushido's laugh echoed in the room and circled around Bill's head. Spinning around the room, he tried to find the source of the sound, but all it did was get louder. His hands went up to his ears, "Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" he shouted and started to prowl angrily around the tiny area. His fists slammed against the wall, he grunted from all the way back in his throat, and he tore apart the bedding with his nails.

With all the commotion going on, someone had to go and investigate, and mercifully that was exactly what the doctor did. When the two of them went back into the overlook, they were greeted with a dreadful sight. Down and feathers floated about and Bill was actually trying to flip over the bed. He was flailing his arms around and screaming like a wild animal at nothing. Tom was horrified and collapsed to his knees with a hand over his eyes. The doctor rested a gentle hand on his shoulder for he knew that this man needed more than just a holding room for the so called PTSD.

Bill flopped onto the bed, snarling into the pillow, "why is this happening to me? Why are you here?" When he glanced up, he found Bushido looking back at him in the mirror. A red wave of anger rushed over Bill as he got up and charged forward.

The initial slam startled Tom, still kneeling on the floor. Looking out into Bill's room, he saw his brother attacking the glass. He gasped as Bill scratched and slobbered on the mirror still acting like a savage. It was awful; the previously unfilled eyes housed a fury that never existed before in his brother. His teeth were a set of fangs and his hands were claws and the rest of his body turned beastly. Tom released a stray tear as he touched the glass where Bill's hand was. About five seconds after he put his hand there, Bill moved his and started slamming on the mirror, creating a small crack.

Nurses came into the room and a doctor wielding a syringe. He hardly put up a fight and surrendered himself to the professionals. In the last few moments he had, he saw Bushido smiling victoriously and Tom frowning in shame. Bill's vision went from red to fading black and was soon out like the light, falling into the sea of darkness that had taken over his pure mind and destroyed all he once loved. When would the light turn back on?


	4. Deception

"Deception"

After a long and hard week, Tom decided it was now or never to confront Bill, who was still in the hospital, held in the psych ward. Ever since the incident and the overdose, Tom had been second guessing everything and everyone, even Bill. The changed attitude, the outbreak, the drugs, what was more to come if he hadn't sought help was probably the most terrifying to him. But he had held in his emotions for too long and needed to get things settled. For him to do that, he had to talk to Bill regardless of his mental stability.

It was a rainy Sunday, a cold one most definitely. Tom walked through the hall of the ward wearing a certain and strong facial feature and locked his fists at the sides of his legs. Frankie, a young broad of a nurse, had been one of the many people tending to Bill and directed Tom to his room. She seemed to be a boring and flat person by the way she walked. At the door, room 384, Tom grasped the "L" shaped handle only to hesitate opening it. He was scared, he was hurt, he was unsure, but his brother, his love was in there, someone who he needed to speak to greatly. He pushed open the heavy door slightly, eyes closed and body moving, to hear a familiar faint sound: "Tom?"

Bill was staring out the window when Tom came in. He was watching the birds when really he was jacking off again to Tom's picture. He didn't really care too much if anyone (or anything) walked in on him. He told himself they were just jealous that he had someone who was scorching hot for a brother/lover; usually when he did say that, he would look around the room to see if Bushido was around. But on that day, he didn't expect his visitor would be Tom, so he was slightly flustered. He hid the picture in the pocket of his gown he was forced to wear again.

Tom closed the door silently behind him, "Hey Bill. How are you feeling babes?"

Bill smiled at his pet name, "I'm alright. Well, better than before. If I was fine, I would be home by now."

_You are home._ Bill shuddered making Tom concerned.

"A chill," Bill cleverly covered up "this place is colder than Montreal." Tom nodded, but didn't buy the statement.

"Billa, we need to talk," Tom breathed a heavy sigh, "I love you with all my soul and I would die for you. But what you've shown me and acted was unforgivable and inhuman above all." _He just called you an animal!_ Bill rose from the chair, unassisted since his leg was healed. Tom continued, "I didn't tell anyone how much you hurt me, you know me I never tell. But this was just outrageous Bill. Is this the thanks I get for saving your life? Popping pills, uncontrollable violent sex, barbaric frenzy; who are you? Is this Bill or Bill influence by Bushido?" _Well, well, he knows I'm here. This can be fun. _

As if a switch was flipped, Bill collapsed on the floor hysterically crying. He clutched Tom's leg and kissed his feet. _Kissing the feet? Really? _Tom went down to pick up his brother, shaking like a leaf.

"Oh Tomi!" Bill wailed, "It's him. It's his entire fault I'm like this. I'm so sorry I put you through this. You have no idea how hard it is for me to live with such trauma and a ghost on top of it all. Just…hold me!" He launched his head into Tom's stomach and continued to sob. Tom allowed it and petted his stringy hair. That was his Bill, his little brother, his heart, the one who he promised to love. It was all so right for those few minutes.

But just as quickly as his mood change, Tom felt a hand wiggling inside of his pants. Bill was fondling him as he unzipped his pants as well, trying to get a taste. _You whore, you traitor._

"What the hell?" Tom yelped when a hand turned into a mouth with a playful bite, "Bill get off!"

"Why? I haven't had you in so long. I need it." Bill practically growled like a starved dog over a steak. It made him flashback to the incident in Spain and turned him catatonic, but he still released his brother.

Tom buckled up before the nurses got suspicious. He had to say it was a bittersweet moment, yet it just told him more of what he already knew and reminded him what he was there for.

"You see that?" he asked Bill, "that mood swing, it's going to get worse if untreated. And I can't handle that on my own." _What a pussy. _"So that's why I'm admitting you here for treatment, for you to get better, completely." Bill just stared at him blankly and made a grunt noise at him. Out of frustration, Tom slapped him across the face, waking him from his trance.

"What the fuck was that for?" Bill scowled.

"Because I'm sick of you shit and I'm giving you to the professionals to straighten you out."

It was Bill's turn to be hurt, "but, I thought you loved me?" _Why don't you ever listen?_

He sighed again, "The thing is I do, but I want you to be…you again. And if Bushido is making it difficult for that to happen, I want someone who knows what they're doing to help." He grabbed Bill's head and gazed, "do you understand? I'm giving you an ultimatum: stay here and I'll stay or leave and I'm gone." They hovered in each other's space, waiting for an answer.

"I—," Bill started, "—love you."

"I guess that means you'll stay." Tom grinned widely and kissed Bill, something he yearned to do for a long time. Bill answered him and let him inside. He was pleasure stricken, it felt really good. As he released, Tom stepped back from him.

"I'm gonna be right back babes," he said and left the room, happy that things might be looking up.

_Seriously, that is love? Cats and dogs have a better relationship than that. It's not even a relationship, it's a dictatorship. And he's the leader over your poor little village. _Bill shut his eyes to block out the world and see Bushido, "You're absolutely right…as always."

* * *

The apartment was quiet without Bill, a stiff silence that made the air stale. Tom lied in the bed, looking up at the ceiling fan. Spinning and cooling, drying off the tears on his face. _How is this love?_ He pondered to himself, how can it be love? Sending off your partner because you couldn't deal with him anymore, how could that be love? After pulling him out of Death's arms, he hid a secret addiction, how could that be love? Feeling threatened by an outside force and letting it conquer over mortality, how could that be love? Everything felt like a flaw with them and felt irresolvable. His dear Bill had fallen apart and left him so alone.

Tom understood he was recovering from a personal kind of tragedy, but he lost himself on his road to revitalization. His greatest fear of all was that Bill would never be able to return to the one person he cared most in the world. They say that twins felt each other's emotions and heard each other's thoughts. For Tom, he knew it was all downhill because he couldn't feel a thing.

He got up from the bed and got himself a drink. Stepping out of the kitchen, he walked past the picture frames on top of a narrow shelf. Moving the can to his left hand, he picked up a basic silver frame with his right. It was taken while on tour in New York, in front of Times Square. He was wearing one of the few regular fitting shirts he had while Bill was in his leather buckle jacket he got him for their birthday. Bill had no makeup on that day. In another frame held a strip of photos taken at a booth in Los Angeles. It was black and white and unbelievably silly. The fourth photo was of him kissing Bill's cheek and Bill was lit up like the west coast sun they experienced at a beach sundown. That day was probably one of the happiest days they spent together.

Putting the frames back, he dropped down on the couch, nearly spilling his drink. Tom buried his face into his hands.

_I love him,_ he thought, _but I hate what he did and what he can do to me. And I promised I would be there if he pulled through, but I don't think I want to anymore. What does this mean? What do I do?_

If thoughts could kill the thinker, Tom would be slaughtered. He felt every notion gnawing away at his body and mind. It was torturous. But Tom knew what to do. Reaching into his back pocket and retrieved his phone, hitting speed dial six.

"Andreas?" he spoke into the receiver, "Can you come over please? I need to talk."


End file.
